


Dark and Light

by HayesPeters



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-05
Updated: 2016-06-05
Packaged: 2018-07-12 10:44:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7099630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HayesPeters/pseuds/HayesPeters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dark is the heir to the Land of the Moon, and Light the heir to the Realm of the Sun. When their nations both lose all reason, the task of stopping a war is in their hands. A fairytale with a twist.</p><p>Illustrations by <a href="http://agnesepuccinelli.tumblr.com/">AgnesePuccinelli.</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	Dark and Light

**Author's Note:**

> I am incredibly stoked to be able to add _four_ beautiful illustrations to this little story of mine. The artist was also kind enough to do several smaller, additional pieces which you can find [at my tumblr](http://hayespeterswrites.tumblr.com/post/148155108141/look-at-all-this-gorgeous-art-that), so [go give her some love!](http://agnesepuccinelli.tumblr.com/)

Once upon a time in a faraway place, there were two grand kingdoms: the Realm of the Sun, and the Land of the Moon.

The Realm of the Sun was forever warm and bright; its people and cities gilded by summer sunshine without ever seeing the dark of night, and ruled with wisdom and kindness by a king and queen so loved that the birth of their daughter spawned a feast that lasted for five circles of the sun. The princess was light in all things from hair to eyes to skin and disposition, and so that became her name.

The Land of the Moon was eternally cool under the silver light that ruled its sky, and its people were as peaceful and still as a clear, winter night. Their king and queen reigned with courage and charm, and had also a daughter; so celebrated that the feast had lasted for five rounds of the moon. The princess was dark in all things from hair to eyes to skin and humor, and so that became her name.

The kingdoms were neighbors, but rarely met; easily knowing the border where golds became silvers and midday became midnight, all in the span of a single step. Whispers crept along the corners of both realms of the strangeness of their neighbors, and no person from one land wanted in any way to deal with the other, since their differences were so vast and so apparent.

And so it had been, for many an age, that the Realm of the Sun and the Land of the Moon remained as such; always touching at the edges, yet never daring to walk a pace beyond their own comfort. Light grew to show her father's wisdom and her mother's kindness; slender and fair and lovely, and as graceful astride the palace horses as she was when wielding her golden bow. Dark shared her mother's charm and her father's courage; tall and noble and arresting, and as swift traversing the shadowed forests as she was when hefting her silver sword.

One time, it came to be that both princesses were near the border; Light on a ride and Dark on a run, and both of them alone since peace had reigned for longer than their parents had been alive. Light came upon a river of clear water that twinkled under the sunlight until its middle, where daylight became nighttime. The whispers had reached her ears through the palace servants, but her father's wisdom ran true and so she dismounted her horse and let it drink; standing on the bank herself and peering into the darkness ahead. Dark, too, found the same river at the same time, and though she was startled by both the blinding light and the sight of the girl standing in it, her blood was not the bravest of her land for naught.

“Bright warmth to you,” said Light; the wise one.

“Gentle phases to you,” said Dark; the brave one. “Are your people as strange as they say?”

“Not to me,” said Light. “Are yours?”

“Not to me,” said Dark.-

They named the place of their meeting Dusk, and returned as often as they could; finding that for all their outward differences, their minds and hearts were not so dissimilar at all. From opposite sides of the river, they spoke of their own worlds and learned of each other's; marveling at wonders they had never known existed, and yet also despairing at the knowledge that it couldn't be shared with their people, who would surely stop them from meeting again.

“It almost seems too fanciful,” said Light one time, and set her chin her knees. “For all I know, you yourself are no more than a daydream of mine.”

“How flattering,” said Dark, and laughed while her feet kicked at the water. “To think that you would dream me up all on your own.”

“Do be serious,” scolded Light, but smiled. “How am I to know that you're real? We cannot even touch each other; so wide is the river.”

“Can you not hear my voice?” said Dark. “Can you not see my face?”

“But I cannot take your hand,” said Light, and wanted to weep. “I cannot touch your skin.”

Dark fell silent and watched the river. “The water is deep,” she said. “But it isn't too deep. It is fast, but not too fast.” Her heart held fast to its courage even as it trembled in her chest, and she pushed herself into the rushing water and found her footing in the chill of the river. “Will you come to me, if I come to you?”

Light leaped into the stream in answer, and stumbled a pace before she steadied. “I will.”

Their hands met across the line between night and day, and when they touched, the river turned glittering gold and shimmering silver; a fine mist rising around them and wetting the banks so that flowers bloomed.

“You're warmer,” said Dark, and smiled.

“You're cooler,” said Light, and lifted their hands with a laugh; touching their palms and interweaving their fingers. “But still the same as I.”

“Of course.”

 

Many a time passed as such in the middle of the river; with Dark's hand in Light's or Light's hand in Dark's, with stories of one home or the other and resulting sounds of surprise or dismay. Both grew taller and stronger and bent to the increasing demands of their duties, but while their meetings lessened and shortened, they still remained; brief times of peace and understanding where both found in the other a very dear friend.

As the princesses grew friendly, their nations grew hostile. The whispers became conversations and the conversations became arguments; louder and louder until neither girl could look another person in the eyes without hearing of it. They both feared, and both tried in their own ways to circumvent; to ease the angers that grew and the fears that spread.

“Their queen is a witch!” said one side of the other. “Stealing children from their cribs and devouring them to sustain the power of that unholy land!”

“Do you know this?” argued a princess. “Or base you your claims on simple hearsay?”

“Their king is a troll!” said the other side of the one. “Hoarding riches and starving his people, so that he may then take ours!”

“Is this proven fact?” argued a princess. “Or have you this information from no more than vicious rumor?”

But try though they did, their reason was a pebble before the tide of a rockfall.

“They speak of war,” hissed Light; now near a woman as she sat on the bank. “War! And worse, they speak of it as though it were a thing of glory and good, and not the certain death of thousands and the rending of every family in my land and yours.”

“Mine do, as well,” said Dark; quiet and tired in her place on her own side. “There is no sense in it, but none will listen to reason, which is unreasonable in itself.” She threw a rock, and the river swallowed it with a splash. “Reason is lost to my people, and their anger is so strong that I cannot even fathom from whence it came.”

“Anger comes ever from fear,” said Light. “But what is this fear's cause? There was always wariness, but peace remained.”

“I pray we find out,” said Dark, and sighed. “Lest we end up on opposite sides of the field of battle."

“No!” cried Light, and jumped into the river; striding across its width in the mighty current and crossing into the shadows with thunder in her eyes. “I will not be your enemy,” she swore; low and sure as she grasped Dark by the knees and stared hard at her face. “Never.”

“Nor will I be yours,” promised Dark; touching that face and feeling its warmth. “But our people seem set on being enemies to each other, even if there is no honor in it. How can we halt the march of war, when all that revealing our friendship will do is place us both in danger?”

“They'll call us unhealthy influences on each other,” said Light, and looked as if she wanted to spit. “Unhealthy! For being friends and _reasonable_ in a world that has surely gone mad!”

“Mad, yes,” said Dark. “War is that, and going from peaceful coexistence to such a thing even more so.”

“There must be a source,” said Light. “There must be an outside influence; someone who stokes the embers and fans the flames.”

“You're the wise one,” said Dark, and laughed at the pinch.

“Am I wrong?” asked Light.

“No,” said Dark, and sobered. “But how can we hope to find it, when everyone we could enlist to help would balk at even the thought of preventing this war?”

Light wept into her friend's chest and felt the solid hold around her shoulders. “It cannot be,” she pleaded. “It _must not_ be that I must stand against you, who--”

“Who?” wondered Dark, and felt something in her chest stutter when those eyes lifted.

But Light shook her head and smiled, though it was small. “You're the brave one.”

And so the war came, with two mighty armies in silver and gold standing before each other in a field where their borders touched; one in shadow and on foot, and the other in sunlight and on horseback. At their heads were the kings and queens and princesses because such was the way of both lands, and Dark wished that they would see at least this similarity and seek out others, but every face was twisted with blood lust and the anger soured the very air and made her stomach turn.

“Come then, fools!” cried the king who glittered under the sun, and Dark watched Light who was at his side and ached for the helplessness in her face. “Dare none of you even approach?!”

Light held to her saddle so that her hands wouldn't tremble, and knew that the battle would be even and bloody. Her people were stronger, true, but Dark's were swifter, and the mere thought of the number of people who could bleed their last into this field made her all but tumble to the ground.

“They who caused this war will start it!” snarled the king who gleamed under the moonlight. “There is no such cowardice in my realm!”

Dark, under Light's watery gaze, swallowed while the yells grew louder and more numerous, and Light felt her heart freeze in her chest when her friend then took one step forward that was immediately followed by another, until she stood on the border between their lands as the only one, and every voice fell silent.

And with a lift of her chin and a straightening of her shoulders, Dark turned on her people.

“This is senseless!” she cried into all that shocked silence, and Light covered her own mouth with one hand and wanted to sob. “This is not honor, or sport, or courage! War for war's sake is foolishness, and I will not take part!”

“Nor will I!” echoed Light; watery, but strong as she found in herself a tendril of the courage that ran so deep in her friend, and kneed her mount forward until she was at Dark's side and too could turn on her own people. “This is not wisdom, or caution, or reason!” A hand that she knew found her knee, and she covered it with her own. “I care for you all, but on this, I will stand against you!”

At that, all reason must have abandoned the world, for when Light turned her head to gaze at her friend, the arrow that was headed for Dark's throat came from the shadows.

“No!” Light yelled when Dark did, for as it happened, an arrow was coming for her, too, from her own people. Each threw out a hand, and Light cast away the silver arrow with a gust of stormy wind while Dark set the very earth below them to rising; lifting them both away from the golden arrow on a wall of solid stone that split one land from the other.

They stared at each other for a breathless moment, uncomprehending; so high that the tops of trees were like grass.

“Traitor!” came then the howl from both armies, and now all the anger was aimed at them.

"Quickly!" cried Light, and knocked off course a third arrow with the limb of her bow while Dark's sword blurred through the air to cut in half a fourth. "Here!"

The offer of an arm and a ride both gave Dark pause. Horses were not used as such in her land, and this one was skittish from the noise and the magic both. Reason, however, had not left her nor Light, and the essence of their survival was that of speed.

Light pulled when her arm was clasped, and barely was there a body behind her before she kicked her mount to a gallop. The three tore across the top of the stone wall and away from the shouts of people gone mad, and while the wall was high it was also thick; sturdy and strong even under the hooves of a horse, and the further they rode, the less they could hear the cries.

“They've lost all sense!” hissed Dark, and held fast to the slender body before her lest she fall from the saddle. “To turn on each other is one, but to turn on us?”

“Madness,” breathed Light, and stared across the wall's endless length towards the mountains; her form on the horse steady and strong from long practice. “To not only turn their rage our way, but to try to strike us down after we did nothing but speak the truth?”

“Truth, yes,” was Dark's wry agreement. “But also magic.”

“Unusual, yes, but surely not so much as to cause murder,” argued Light. “Something else is involved,” she said, and a shock rippled down her back when there was movement in the distance. “Look!”

Dark looked, and though she had to strain her eyes, she saw far off a shape; only fleetingly still as it sailed in the air above the rocky slopes ahead, moving with too much purpose to be scrap, and too little speed to be fowl. “Where is it headed?”

“Away from the battle that almost was,” said Light, and sounded as if she was pressing the words past her teeth. “As though it were watching it.”

“You're the wise one,” said Dark, and patted her side. “If you will follow it, then I will follow you.”

“If run is what we must do to have our lives, then better to find a direction in which to go,” was Light's dry response. “Does riding agree with you?”

“No,” said Dark. “But there is little choice in the matter, so I will have to adapt.”

The wall melded into the mountains when they had traveled far, and though the shape kept moving, it did so slowly enough that Light could ease their horse to a walk when she felt that it needed some amount of rest. Even so, they gained ground steadily; trailing the shape, which was a sphere, Light noted when they were closer, up craggy paths and through narrow ravines until they were so high that surely the entire world was at their feet.

“Oh,” said Dark, and sounded winded while her arms tightened.

“Oh,” said Light, in much the same way when she turned her head and looked.

Below them, the wall stretched further than their eyes could see even from this lofty vantage. Half in sunlight, half in shadow and at least twice again the length of the distance they had covered, it split their lands apart in what had to be their entirety.

  
  


“How I did that, I do not know,” said Dark.

“Whether you know or not matters little,” said Light, but patted the hands at her own middle. “If nothing else, it keeps them from battle.”

“Do you worry?” asked Dark. “About them?”

“With every beat of my heart,” answered Light. “But we can do little but press on, and pray that we find both the cause and a means in which to resolve this madness."

So onwards and upwards they went after the soaring sphere, and though the air grew cold and the land around them lost its color, they did not moan or complain; merely huddled together, and stayed as warm as was possible beneath the cloak that Dark wore and now wrapped around them both. Their own lands were well behind them; the line between midday and midnight faded and gone, and they traveled through the gray and white and black; only rarely speaking, and then doing so softly, that their voices would not carry.

The sphere could see, they knew, since it never stuttered against the cliffs. But they did not know if it could hear and were not keen to find out by poorly timed chance.

The climb seemed as though it would never end. In this gray land, what little light there was moved in unfamiliar cycles; a long time of half-light followed by an equal stretch of complete darkness. The sphere, at least, seemed only to move when they could see it; settling otherwise in a nook on the mountainside and only rising once more when the blackness had lifted. Odd as it was, it gave them time to rest, and while the horse cropped the sparse grass sneaking from the crags, they rested together; Dark's body colder by nature and more accustomed to the chill, but still warm enough that she could keep her friend from shivering if she only held her close.

She did, and felt whenever they rested like that, curled into shelter by a steep cliff or under a narrow overhang, the slow pace of Light's breathing lull against her chest and instill in her heart a peace that she had never known. Strange, she thought, to feel such ease in a place and time like this; ever further from all she knew, and finding only the barest of protection from the high winds and the rushing snow the higher they climbed. As they went, they cared for the horse as much as they did for themselves; a thing which Dark had to learn, and Light was happy to teach.

“Why do you clean her hooves?”

“Had you ever a stone in your boot?”

“Yes.”

“Did you remove it?”

“Of course. It pained me.”

“This will pain her, too.”

“Ah.”

The journey seemed to them both as if it took half a lifetime. Every time they crested the top of a mountain and thought themselves at the end, the sphere soared ahead to an even taller peak. Two mountains conquered became four, which became six, and when the seventh peak was below their feet both were beyond exhausted.

“Oh, to know where it was headed,” panted Light, since the final slope had been too steep for riding and the horse had been left in a snow-dusted valley for its own safety. “And, perhaps, to also know the land so that we could sneak ahead.”

“If the skies clear, I will find a star for you to wish on,” answered Dark, and smiled at the glower as she offered berries from the pack at her waist. “Eat.”

“I will if you will,” said Light, and took the berries only to press one to Dark's mouth.

Dark smiled and accepted it, and they ate what they could and picked their way down the mountain's peak; watching the sphere flit from one crag to the next until it was suddenly gone.

Light cursed and then cursed again, and Dark stared, for her friend was not swift to anger or ever of crude language that she knew.

“By all the insidious...” Light breathed hard, and narrowed her eyes at the descent. “If it has disappeared--”

“-- we will find it again,” Dark promised, and clasped her shoulder. “But first, let us see if it is truly gone, or if it merely led us to where we wished.”

The latter, it appeared, was the truth. From were they had last seen the sphere, they spotted the gaping maw of a cave; one that was deep enough for all visibility to be left behind as they entered it. Dark's blood, however, gave her vision that was unchanged in the blackness, and she held fast to Light's hand and guided her friend through the caverns and halls that she found, onwards and onwards until finally, she saw ahead the weak shine of several colors.

“What is this?” whispered Light when they were close enough for the shine to reach her eyes, as well.

“I do not know,” murmured Dark, because speaking loudly when in unknown territory was not wise. “But I wish to find out.”

What it was, they found, was a circular cavern lined with shelves, on which stood far more than could be counted from the entrance. Vials, bottles and beakers, each of them clear glass and filled with liquid in every color of the rainbow and a few more besides, and each glowing; faint, but enough to illuminate the room.

Dark was brave, but courage did not negate caution, and so her entry into the room was slow and silent and watchful; her eyes scanning every nook and her hand remaining on the sword at her side before she deigned to give her attention to the shelves and their contents.

“Sorrow,” said Light, and touched a bottle whose contents where black. “See?” Her finger brushed a scrawled label. “Here.”

Dark peered over her friend's shoulder, and saw that the bottle was indeed labeled with exactly that. “Hm,” she said, and turned to a vial that glowed a yellow sort of green. “This one reads Jealousy.”

“Greed.” Light continued along the shelves; studying all the units but touching only a few. “Joy, Reverence, Confusion, Fear, and...” Here, she halted at an empty spot of shelf. “This one is bare.”

“Why fill an entire cave with with bottles of colored water?” Dark wondered.

“I know not,” said Light, and shook her head. “Though water does not glow.”

“True,” said Dark, and stepped further down the row of shelves. “Magic water, perhaps?”

“Perhaps,” said Light, and walked with her. “Naming them after emotions might then make them... potions? Designed to inspire the emotion for which they are named in the one ingesting the contents?”

“Perhaps,” said Dark, and smiled. “You're the wise one.”

Light gave her glance. “And you, I suspect, are the wise-cracking one.”

“Perhaps,” said Dark, and then halted because the row of shelves had come to an end. “Oh.”

“Oh,” echoed Light.

Before them, in a gap between the shelves that lined the walls, stood a massive table; bare but for the two large containers – each easily bigger than both of their heads – and a metal ring on three legs, on which sat the sphere that they had followed for so long. Both containers were as clear as the rest, and it was easily seen that one was filled almost to its brim with sharp, bright green that reminded Light of young leaves, while the other was all but drained of a deep, angry red that brought to Dark's mind the glow of dying fire. Above the two rested the sphere, and as they watched, it flickered and pulsed and images appeared on its surface; the faces of people they knew and landscapes that called to them as home; of desperate situations and a burst of magic as they saved one another from death.

“So I was right,” said Light. “It was watching.”

Dark wondered how the thing could watch without eyes, but did not deny the claim. “What it is doing now, though?” she mused, and took a step closer to better study the containers below it. “Look; there are tubes here.”

There was, Light found. Small ones, but they were there; one leading green into the vessel that was almost full, and the other tapping red from the one that was almost empty.

“Odd,” said Dark, and fished the tube from the red vessel so that she could catch a drop of the liquid on her finger. “Thick,” she said. “Like wine, almost, but more so.”

Light went to answer, and found her breath stuttering in her throat when there was a sudden, startling change in her friend. In the span of a heartbeat, Dark's eyes hardened, her jaw set, her shoulders bunched and her hands fisted, but Light was as swift of thought as Dark was of feet, and she pulled free the tube from the green vessel, wiped it across her own skin, and caught the fist that swung for her in her now glowing palm.

Dark staggered, and gasped, and sunk to her knees. “What...” She coughed twice. “What just happened?”

“What did you feel?” asked Light as she lowered herself to the floor, but did not release the hand in her grasp. “Just now.”

“I was...” Dark's eyelids were fluttering rapidly, and she sounded, Light thought, more winded than when they had just crested a mountain under their own power. “Disoriented, first. Then... focused and wanting to-- to strike you, I was--”

“Angry,” said Light, softly. “Yes?”

“Yes,” said Dark, and stared. “Just as--”

“Our people.” Light closed her eyes and breathed. “And the anger came to you after the red liquid touched your skin. But when your skin then touched the green liquid that I had transferred to my palm--”

“My reason returned to me.” Dark, too, took a breath, and turned to the table. “So that is what those are, you think? Anger and Reason?”

“Yes.” Light took her friend's wrist instead of her hand, and used a fold of Dark's cloak to wipe both liquids from the long fingers. “Are there any wielders of magic among your people?”

“No.” Dark shook her head. “It is not unheard of, but has not happened in my land for many an age. Not until...”

“You,” completed Light, and waited for the nod. “As is the case with me and mine.”

Dark studied her. “Have you a notion?”

“I do,” said Light, and stood herself before pulling her friend to her feet. “I think the sphere itself is a vessel,” she said, and pointed to it. “What was it that you said, when we first fled?”

“That our people have lost all sense,” said Dark.

“Sense,” echoed Light, and nodded as she now pointed to the green liquid. “Also commonly called reason.”

Dark felt as if her legs were going to give again. “You believe that the sphere is siphoning the reason from our people and taking it here.”

“Yes,” said Light, and gestured now to the red liquid. “And that it is replacing it with anger. It affected all but you and I, and I presume the cause of that to be the magic that we have."

“Magic which is strong, but not enough to protect us when there is direct contact,” murmured Dark, and reached out a hand to touch the glass. “These are not potions.”

“No.” Light touched the glass as well. “These are the emotions themselves. Mental states of being, condensed.” She frowned, then, and shook her head. “What I cannot comprehend is why.”

“That is quite simple.”

The appearance of a third voice made them start; their hands clasping and both of them jumping until their backs hit one of the many shelves. Before them, now, stood a figure that was as gray as the color of the world outside the mountain; gray of skin, of hair, of eyes and clothing, and gray of even mood, Dark judged from the lack of emotion on its face.

“Simple?” said Dark, and stood as tall as she could. “Why is it so simple that you rob our people of all their very reason?”

“Because my people have none, and I care for them while yours are of little consequence to me,” said the Gray.

“Your people have no reason?” said Light.

“My people have nothing but anger,” answered the Gray. “Anger that I found a way to siphon, which did little more than send them all into a deep, unending sleep. Before I can awaken them, that anger must be replaced, or the war will resume.”

“So you would start a war here, instead?” demanded Dark. “Condemn the lives of two nations to save one?”

“Yes,” said the Gray. “I care for my people. Not for yours.”

This, Light thought, was a being of utmost rationality. So much so, it seemed, that empathy and consideration had been left by the wayside. “You have reason,” she said. “Not anger. Or you would have simply attacked us.”

“I have only reason,” said the Gray. “And I am the last, so it falls to me to replenish that which my people has lost.”

“That is why all of these emotions are here,” Light breathed. “You are taking them with you, but... why so much reason, and so little else?”

The Gray simply watched her. “The dead can be harvested, if it is done soon enough,” it said, and showed the faintest of emotion in a frown. “You have delayed matters, and though I do not know how, it is of little importance since you have brought me the one thing I have yet to find a sample of.” Its sleeve fluttered, and there was then something in its hand that Light did not recognize, but all the same did not like the look of. “Love.”

Light felt her heart all but stop on her chest, and sensed the startle in Dark's body by way of the tremble that ran down one arm and transferred into her own hand. “Why samples?” she asked, thinking frantically.

“To tell my siphon what to harvest,” said the Gray. “The samples must be taken by hand, and while everything else has been readily available, love is difficult to come by since the emotion must be strongly prevalent for a viable dose. This, apparently, tends to happen only in private for this particular feeling.”

“A moment on which you could not intrude unnoticed,” said Dark, and felt one of the fingers between her own tap the back of her hand twice, and then shift and jerk as though pointing to the shelves behind them. She did not fully understand what Light's plan was, but knew her friend well enough to realize that there was one.

“Correct,” said the Gray, and raised its hand. “Do hold still, now. It will not hurt, and since you seem to be unaffected by my other efforts, you may leave once I am done. You can travel elsewhere, and start anew.”

Dark ground her teeth, and waited for the fingers in her own to relax. When they did, she released her own hold and jumped.

Light's hands, now both free, shot out, and a mighty gust of wind scored across the chamber and slammed the Gray against the wall. “You wish for our emotions?” she growled. “Then have them. Throw them!” she yelled, to Dark. “Choose carefully!”

Dark did, and picked the vial marked Fear as the first. It sailed through the air and shattered against the Gray's chest; the liquid within seeping through fabric and onto skin. Then came Confusion, then Anxiety, then Sorrow and Pain and Heartbreak, and the Gray wept and howled and screamed and cried as it struggled against the force of Light's magic, which would not be denied.

“Now the others!” yelled Light. “Both sides of the scale!”

Joy came first, now. Then Amusement, then Affection, then Comfort and Peace and Pride, and the Gray smiled and laughed and cheered and twitched; overloading on everything new and unfamiliar that it was forced to process between one breath and the next.

When all the Gray could do was twitch, Light took back her hands and let it drop onto the floor. There was anger in her movements when she stalked over to the table, but a single drop of the green onto her finger made her shoulders loosen, and it was with more peace in her steps that she crossed the floor again and wiped the finger she kept Reason on across the Gray's forehead.

“Do you understand now?” she asked, when the Gray had stilled and was staring unseeingly at the ceiling. “What it is that you are robbing us of?”

“I do,” said the Gray, and its face tensed in pain while its hands curled into fists. “And I am sorry, but I do not know how else to save my p-- wait.” Its eyes opened wider than ever, and when its fingers snatched Light's wrist, Dark had her sword out and was across the room and ready to strike, but halted when Light held up the hand of hers that was free. “You have love,” breathed the Gray. “And magic. A few drops of your blood would have enough for me to replenish the losses of five of my people. I could then sample them when they had recovered, and replenish five more.”

“And you would be able to restore them in larger numbers over time?” guessed Light.

“Yes,” said the Gray.

“What, then, of our people?” asked Dark, and rested the tip of her sword against the floor as she crouched by them both. “What of the reason that you have robbed them of, and the war that still rumbles beneath the surface?”

“I will restore their reason to them,” said the Gray. “The anger is not theirs, and so will vanish when pushed away by something that is.”

“And return, perhaps, to your people?” worried Light.

“Perhaps,” said the Gray. “But if so, it will be dampened by what I have already returned to them, and will not take them over.” Its hands pushed at the floor until it was reclining against the wall. “Will you agree?” it asked. “I need but a few drops.”

Dark felt the warmth of Light's eyes on her face, and turned her head to meet them. For a long moment, they watched each other; weighing everything in their minds and speaking only through their eyes. Then, as if prompted, they both nodded once.

“What will you keep the blood in?” asked Dark, and now rested her sword across her lap. “To take it back to your people?”

“This,” said the Gray, and showed them the device that it had aimed their way earlier; a strange thing that glowed both silver and blue among the many other colors in this cave. “I need not drain it lest I have need of it for something else, and it will hold the powers of your blood until I can return to my people.”

“Ready it, then,” said Dark, and turned her sword so that one edge of the blade of was aimed upwards.

The trace of Light's finger across the blade was gentle, but the edge was the sharpest of anything and still managed to break the skin. She held the cut finger above the Gray's device, and watched it pulse in time with the red drops that she squeezed from her flesh and dripped into it. Dark, then, was next, and when her blood fell into the device, it pulsed thrice with enough strength to make the inside of the mountain as bright as a clear day.

“Hm,” said the Gray. “Strong on your own, but stronger still together.”

“What now?” asked Dark, and helped her friend to her feet before taking the Gray's hand and pulling it up as well.

“Now I tell my siphon to absorb the stored reason and return it,” said the Gray, and crossed the floor to stroke a finger across the resting sphere. It glowed under the touch, and Dark felt Light press against her back to peer over her shoulder; both sets of eyes wide at the symbols that appeared on the reflective surface, and each symbol briefly glowing stronger if it was touched. “There,” said the Gray, and when it spoke, the red liquid spilled from the sphere and into its vessel, while the green liquid was absorbed in its place. “My siphon will carry this back to your people before releasing it, and ensure that each person receives no more than their previous share.” Its hand reached, and then offered to them a new item; thin and spiked on one end, and pulsing green rather than blue when Dark took it with her own hand.

“This is?” she asked, and felt the warmth of Light's hand against her own as her friend also examined the device.

“Transport,” answered the Gray, and bowed to them as the sphere rose from its rest and flew from the cave; the green liquid now completely drained. “You have given to me the means with which to save my people even after I did much to destroy yours, and so I thank you. This device will transport you three times to an area of your choosing, and if you so wish, grant you a much swifter return to your homeland.”

“How do we use it?” asked Light, whose hand was warm and familiar against Dark's back.

The Gray smiled. “Merely hold to that and whomever you wish to bring with you, and think of where you wish to go. But remember that as I said, it will only work three times.”

“To the outside, first?” asked Dark, and peered at Light, who smiled.

“Then the horse,” she said, and folded her fingers around the inside of Dark's elbow.

“Then home,” said Dark, and nodded. “Three is enough.”

They bid the Gray farewell and used the device; the world swirling around them for an instant before the cave vanished and was replaced by the craggy, snow-dusted mountainside where they had first entered the blackness. Ahead, they could only just see the sphere soaring away; swifter now, and so much that it vanished from their sight before Dark's eyes had fully adjusted to the brightness.

“Should it travel that swiftly all the way,” said Light. “All should be normal by the time we return.”

“We can hope,” said Dark, and waited for the swirling snow to become clear to her eyes. “The cooler air feels good.”

That made Light draw near, and touch her face. “You seem more at ease,” she said, after moment's study. “The blackness of the mountain did not agree with you?”

“The blackness of the mountain was fine,” answered Dark, and pulled a face. “The closeness of its walls was not.”

“Ah,” said Light, as if she understood. “This is why you wished to go here, first.”

“Yes,” said Dark. “The valley is open, but not as open as this.”

To that Light said nothing but hugged her instead, and Dark folded her arms around her friend in return; breathing her scent mixed with that of the cool, sharp snow around them.

“Better?” asked Light when they had stood as such for a while, and pulled back so that Dark could see her face.

“Better,” said Dark, and smiled. “To the valley?”

Light nodded, and held the device herself this time as the world swirled. The valley was as peaceful as when they had left it, and she hugged her horse when she saw it and it came to her; feeling the coarse brush of its hair against her face and smelling the scent of the stables from home on its skin.

“It is over,” came Dark's voice, with the touch of a cool hand to her back. “We are safe, my friend. As is our people.”

Light turned to look at her and watched her face, and saw there an expression that was new and yet still so familiar that her chest tightened with recognition. “Is that what I am to you?” she asked, and heard her voice tremble. “A friend?”

“That, yes” said Dark, and Light felt the hands that cradled her face and reminded her lungs to function. “My dearest, truest, most priceless friend. And so much more, if you wish to be.”

From Light's throat came a sound that was entirely involuntary; low and deep and raw with emotion, and she all but leaped for those arms and was caught by them; held that face in her own hands, stared into those eyes and finally laughed and cried all at once; kissed those cheeks and that nose and those lips, and felt her heart soar at how Dark only held her tighter and returned every last press of her mouth with her own.

“I wish,” she said at last, and felt Dark's smile more than she saw it.

“Then your wish is my command,” said Dark. “Though I believe we might surprise our parents.”

Light laughed and heard Dark join in, and kissed her again because there was no such thing as 'enough'.

Their parents, when they returned home, were, in fact, surprised, though they did not stand against them. The Realm of the Sun and the Land of the Moon became, in marriage, the Nation of the Skies, and a grand castle was erected that crossed the old border where Dark's wall had been; one half in the light and one half in the dark, and an open gate on either side as its queens never sought to deny their people; ruling for long, long years with wisdom and courage and teaching their heirs the same.

And they all lived happily ever after.

 


End file.
